


My Only Son

by WildWestieWrites



Category: Undertale (Video Game), dreamswap - Fandom
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Azi helped with this fic, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Happy Ending, Implied Death, Kidnapping, M/M, Violence, go check out their tumblr (@azure-night-owl) or their ao3 (Azure-Night) u will not regret it, i guess, there is a lot of implied stuff but nothing super graphic tbh, xey are an actual angel, yay!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-08-26 05:11:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16675120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WildWestieWrites/pseuds/WildWestieWrites
Summary: Being the CEO of a massive corporation like Justice Reigns has some benefits, but quite a few drawbacks.For example, having your son kidnapped and held to ransom.





	My Only Son

**Author's Note:**

> Guess what? It's another back up bitches  
> Dreamswap belongs to @onebizarrekai on tumblr
> 
> also as mentioned in tags Azi (@azure-night-owl on tumblr and Azure-Night (i think) on ao3) was an angel and helped me edit, so im shamelessly promoting xem bc WHY NOT

Dream sighed, rubbing his forehead. Press conferences were ridiculously draining, even at the best of times. Still, they were necessary. Completely and utterly frustrating, but still necessary.

He reached his office, shaking his head to try and clear the slight headache that was building up in the back of his skull.  Pushing the door open, he gave a weary smile at the sight of Ink, who had apparently decided to sprawl himself all over Dream’s desk.

“Hello, Ink. Must you always make such a nuisance of yourself?” Dream couldn’t help the small smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

“Must you always have such a rod up thine arse, Dream?” Ink retorted snottily in a poor imitation of Dream. “It’s comfy, so there.”

Dream sighed again, more amused than annoyed. “Of course. My mistake. How could I not have known that a cold hard desk made the best bed rather than, I don’t know, an actual bed?”

Ink huffed, sticking his tongue out. “Shut up, or I’ll hide all the headache pills.”

Dream shook his head at his partner. “You are ridiculous.”

“Tell me something I don’t know _gold daddy_.”

The phone rang. Dream looked at it questioningly, picking it up.

“Hello, this is the direct line to Dream von Licht, CEO of Justice Reigns. What can I help you with?”

“Your son.”

Dream felt a chill go down his spine. His wings bunched, his expression making Ink raise an eyebrow, and with a nod Dream clicked the phone onto loudspeaker.

“And why are you asking after him?” Dream stated, carefully neutral tone giving nothing away.

“Let’s just say you upset someone with that little stunt you and your misguided minions pulled a little while back.” The voice continued, almost mockingly conversational.

“We do not negotiate with terrorists. What does my son have to do with this.” Dream kept his tone level and to the point.

“Simple. We have him. You know, I thought you would’ve known better than just to let your precious little child wander around alone and defenceless.”

“Impossible. He does not do that without making one of us aware first.”

Ink chimed in. “Yeah, lil’ Pal’s not that dumb.”

“I’m so sorry to break it to you, but apparently he is. Tell you what, I’ll prove it to you, and you can decide whether we’re telling the truth and whether you’ll agree to our demands.”

Dream could hear shuffling from the other end, and a small, scared sniff.

“Say hello, Pally.”

A small voice made Dream’s soul run cold.

“F…Father? Dad?”

Ink swore, eyes morphing. “Shit.”

Dream cleared his throat, smothering the emotions bubbling in his chest best he could.

“Palette? Listen to me, everything is going to be okay. You hear me?”

“I-I-I’m scared Fa-”

“Enough talky talky time~.” The caller practically sung, cutting Palette off abruptly.

There was more shuffling, then the unmistakable sound of a half-muffled cry.

Dream gripped the phone with enough force to almost crack it open. Breathe, he told himself. Stall for time.

“…Very well. What is it you want.”

“It’s rather simple really. You have some of our members, we have your son. Now, if you would like him back in one piece, listen carefully…”

* * *

Palette couldn’t see anything. The blindfold made sure of that.

He pulled at the handcuffs again, wincing as he feeling them dig into his wrists.

A hand pushed his head back, knocking it against the chair as a gag was put in his mouth. He tried to spit it out, but the cloth was firmly tied around his head. He could barely make a sound. A frustrated tear trickled down his cheek.

“Oh look, he’s crying. How pathetic.”

“Be quiet, dude.”

A huff. “Expected more from the son of the fucking CEO of Justice Reigns.”

Palette couldn’t stop another tear from escaping.

Why had he left the castle?

His head flung to the side as a hand slapped him across the face. He couldn’t stop the gasp that ripped from his lungs.

“Toughen up, wimp!” Someone jeered at him, spurring a round of laughter.

Going still from shock, Palette only vaguely heard the new set of footsteps coming up behind them. He jumped when someone cried out.

“What the hell was that for?!”

“Enough.” Just the voice was enough to make Palette tremble despite himself. “Leave the captive alone. We need to work out exactly what we’re going to do when the big guns show up.”

Someone scoffed derisively. “He wouldn’t dare do anything while we have his kid.”

“Perhaps. But I wouldn’t count on it. He knows the score, we’ve crossed paths before. They’ll be planning how to approach this, working the angles. I know how they tick.” The person laughed bitterly. “Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if they decided to ignore our demands to see what happens, for better or worse. They’ve done far more ruthless things than that.”

Palette wanted to scream. Of course his father would come for him. He loved him, Palette just knew it. He knew it. He did.

Bet you disappointed him though.

Palette recoiled at the thought, rocking his head back and trying to concentrate on something else. Other than his father.

His father…

His father wanted to rid the world of negativity, Palette knew and understood that. It was why he had created JR in the first place anyway, to make sure that everyone could live out lives in happiness, unshrouded in negativity. No matter what.

Did that mean…

“Right then. You three, take Captive P into the next cell. He can stay there until showtime.”

He heard grumbling.

“Now.”

The chair he was in suddenly tipped backwards, and Palette squeaked through his gag as he was pitched backwards.

“Shut up or I’ll drop you, kid.”

* * *

Dream stepped out of the van, eyes set straight ahead and wings flared.

He was in direct line of sight of the house now, where the call had been tracked. According to their tech division, Palette should be in there. Along with his kidnappers.

Dream shoved the train of thought to the back of his mind. Focus. He had to stay focused.

Ink sauntered up, eyes white but tense. “Sup.”

“I assume the perimeter has been set up and the officers informed, correct?”

“Yep.” Ink said, popping the p. “Ready and waiting for the go ahead, Boss.”

“Good.”

Dream drew himself up, painting himself into the very picture of confidence and control. His hand instinctively hovered over his sheathed sword as he looked in the direction of the abandoned house.

“Let’s go.“

* * *

They had discussed their options thoroughly beforehand.

Ink observed Dream from his hiding place, completely still. He watched blankly, a hush falling as Dream walked slowly towards the house, flanked either side by JR guards. Waiting until he saw them reach the agreed meeting point for the supposed prisoner exchange, Ink then pulled out a vial. He gulped down some of the contents and wiped his mouth, smiling.

Time to _fuck some shit up._

* * *

Palette froze as he heard someone padding down the corridor. He tried to calm his sobs, attempting to make as little noise as possible.

They passed his room.

Palette stopped breathing.

The door crashed open behind him, and Palette jolted, unable to turn around. His breathing picked up, instinctively straining against his binds.

His chair was pulled up. Someone roughly yanked his gag off and Palette spluttered, feeling a hand tear away his blindfold as he leant forward and gagged.

“Gross.”

Palette heaved again, before looking up through bleary eyes.

“…D…Da…d…?”

“Don’t sound so pleased.”

Ink squatted down beside him, and inspected his bindings. “Stay still kiddo. Gonna have to be quick, won’t be long before they get here.” He muttered, almost to himself.

Palette nodded shakily, trying to seem strong and in control.

When he tried to speak, Ink looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Shut it for the minute. We can catch up later lil’ Pal.”

Palette nodded dumbly.

He kept still as Ink kneeled down and pulled out a small brush, black ink materialising and morphing into the rough shape of a key that he pushed into the lock of his hand cuffs. While his dad worked, Palette focused on taking deep breath after deep breath, trying keep himself from freaking out. He didn’t want to embarrass himself, even if his dad couldn’t especially care about his efforts.

The handcuffs clicked open one at a time, and Ink moved onto the cuffs binding his legs to the legs of the chair as Palette rubbed his wrists.

He flinched as angry yells echoed down the corridor. Ink just sighed.

“Well, shit. Thought it’d take ’em longer to realise it was a trap.” Ink mimicked Admiral Ackbar.

“Wha…”

“Yeah, yeah.” Ink finished sawing through the bindings and looked up at Palette. “So, lil’ Pal, think you can run? Cuz you’ll need to.”

Palette nodded as confidently as he could. He pushed himself up, only to stagger and pitch forward. He hit the floor with a groan.

“Yeah, thought that might happen.”

Palette blushed and glared at his dad. “Then…why didn’t you catch me!”

Ink shrugged. “Worth a shot.”

Palette gave a very undignified squeak as Ink suddenly hoisted him into a fireman’s lift.

“Hang on tight!” He cackled, jogging out the room and down the corridor.

Ink suddenly dived forward, practically throwing himself into a nearby room. Palette winced as Ink dropped him.

“Right, kiddo, I’m gonna deal with these frickers, don’t move unless you think you’ll die. Clear?”

Palette tried to reply, but Ink was already strolling out of the room, pulling out a red vial. He downed the contents, and shut the door behind him as he yelled “Oi, fuckers, here I am you bastards!”

Palette shuddered, curling up and rubbing his wrists. He closed his eyes, letting a couple of tears to escape as he lost the battle to keep himself together.

He gave a sob, muffled by his knees.

He just wanted to go home.

* * *

“You alright over there?”

He jolted, roughly stabbing at his eyes as he pulled himself together. He nodded at Ink, willing his tears to disappear as he tried to stand. He felt a hand wrap around his arm and he was pulled up.

“Need some help?” Ink didn’t bother with an answer before he scooped him up again. He paused, seeming to remember something.

“Oh, and by the way, Dream told me to tell you to close your eyes until we’re clear of the house. Apparently it’s not ‘age appropriate’ or something.”

Palette nodded, screwing his eyes shut as his dad began to run out the house again, flinching every time he heard a scream.

* * *

Palette sat in the medical wing, hissing as the nurse dabbed antiseptic onto the rope burns on his wrists. The nurse smiled blandly at him, putting some bandages onto his arm.

“Cheer up, pet, they’ll be back to normal within a week, I should think.”

There was a knock on the door, and another nurse poked her head in.

“Excuse me, Sister Elixa, but there’s a visitor…”

She nodded, before turning back to Palette with a big smile. “Feel better soon, child.”

Palette sniffed, crossing his arms. “I’m not a child.” He was ignored as she left, like the nurse hadn’t even heard him.

The door opened again after a few minutes, and Palette looked up into the concerned eyes of his father.

“How are you faring, Palette?”

“Fine.” He tried to mirror his father’s composure.

Dream raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment. “Your dad should be along soon. He had to deal with another matter before he could pay a visit, unfortunately.”

Dream walked over to him, perching on the side of his bed with his wings folded and intangible.

There were a few beats of silence.

“Palette. We need to talk.”

He gulped. Well, this was going to be a fun conservation.

Dream then fixed him with a look of intense parental disapproval.

Palette squirmed.

“Would you,” Dream said, never breaking eye contact with his son, “care to explain exactly why you decided to leave the castle, enter a random AU with absolutely no precautions, and not tell anyone about it?”

“…Urm…I…uh…” He trailed off, unable to meet his father’s stern glare. His hands twisted into the sheet, making his wrists hurt again.

“You could’ve died. They were threatening to kill you, Palette. Do you have any idea how lucky you are to be alive, you silly boy?”

Palette sunk down, feeling humiliation burning in his chest and resting in the back of his throat.

“You could’ve died. Do you know how that made me feel? My own son, not even twelve years old for God’s sake, captured and almost killed?”

He fought back the tears that threatened to fall.

“Do you, Palette?”

“…I’m sorry, okay!” Palette blurted out.

He interrupted his father as he tried to talk, eyes blurry with unshed tears.

“I get it! I was stupid, I was dumb, I was a big fat fucking idiot!” He kept on talking as Dream tried to interrupt, almost shouting.

“I’m sorry for that, that I fucking well let you down. I’m a disappointment. You don’t need to tell me that.”

Dream just looked at him as Palette continued ranting. Then, leaning forward, he wrapped his arms around him. Palette stiffened.

“Oh Palette.”

His father pulled away slightly, looking Palette directly in the eyes.

“Look, Palette, yes, I am disappointed in you. Leaving the castle without telling anyone was an extremely silly move. And it could have killed you.”

He paused, and thumbed away a small tear that had started trickling out of his eye. “I will be talking to you about that later on.

“But…”

Dream sighed.

“Right now I’m just glad you’re okay, Palette.”

This time, Palette clung to his father, their wings wrapping around each other as if they would never let go.


End file.
